


Lead Us Out Of The Darkness

by bigblueboxat221b



Category: Come From Away - Sankoff & Hein, Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Based Around 9/11, But In Canada, Don't copy to another site, Gen, Giving Newfoundlanders Credit, Love, Manipulating History, Returning to Gander, So Nothing Direct About What Happened In America, Sort Of, Tags Are Hard, Teamwork, kind of hopeful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-07-25 14:02:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20026996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigblueboxat221b/pseuds/bigblueboxat221b
Summary: What if Aziraphale and Crowley knew Hell was planning something big - really big. They can't stop the disaster, but they can light a candle in the resulting darkness. *Indirect references to the events of 9/11/01*





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an odd little piece, I'm not gonna lie. Not exactly happy, and the ending is grey in terms of 'winning', but I am also strangely satisfied with it.
> 
> I'm deep in Good Omens at the moment, and also Come From Away, the Broadway musical about what happened in Newfoundland after 9/11. This one shot supposes Aziraphale and Crowley had some knowledge about what would happen, both in September 2001 and in the longer term, and they work together to try and mitigate the effects in an unexpected way.
> 
> Depending on your own experiences and memories of the time surrounding 9/11, this may not be a good story for you. There are no direct references to anything that happened, but it's not exactly 'happy' either, so make a considered choice for yourself. Take care of you <3

“Why are you in such a bad mood?” Aziraphale asked as Crowley flounced in.

“Who says I’m in a bad mood?” Crowley grumbled.

“Crowley, I have known you for almost six thousand years. If I say you’re in a bad mood, you’re in a bad mood,” Aziraphale explained patiently.

Crowley grunted, dropping into a chair. He sprawled out until he was comfortable, then sighed. “It’s what, 1962?” he asked.

“Something like that,” Aziraphale nodded.

“I overheard Haster talking. He’s got something big planned. Something really big.”

Aziraphale waited, but Crawley wasn’t any more forthcoming. “And?” he prompted.

“And, it’s too big,” Crowley grumbled. “I’m not really into all the really evil stuff, the killing people and everything. I’m more about…”

“Minor irritation?” Aziraphale suggested.

“Exactly!” Crowley exclaimed. “Annoy people and they’ll make their own bad choices, that’s what I say.”

“Indeed you do,” Aziraphale murmured. “So what is this big plan of Haster’s?”

“Well, it’s more than just his plan,” Crowley explained. “Beelzebub is in on it too, which means it’s got approval from the big boss.”

“Goodness,” Aziraphale replied mildly. He still had no idea what Crowley was talking about.

“No, that’s the point!” Crowley snapped. “No goodness in this at all!”

“Crowley, why don’t you just tell me what you heard?” Aziraphale said. It was like pulling teeth sometimes, honestly.

The demon sat up. “It’s a kind of long term plan, as far as these guys go. They’ve started subverting some of the other religions, see if they can get some of that fanaticism going again.” He sighed. “Only this time, he’s going to suggest something really big. Something humans have never seen before.”

“You mean like the Trojan Horse?” Aziraphale asked.

“No, and this is the clever bit,” Crowley replied with a kind of dark admiration. “They’re accelerating the human’s skill set. Speeding up the advancement of multi-story building techniques and jet airplane technology. Making sure that when the fanatics finally get the idea, they’ll have the targets and weapons to do it.”

“Targets and weapons?” Aziraphale said, frowning.

“Tall buildings and big planes,” Crowley said. “If humans build the buildings tall enough, and the planes are big enough…” he made an explosion kind of gesture with his hands.

“No,” Aziraphale breathed.

“Yes,” Crowley said. “This is beyond what Haster is capable of. He doesn’t have imagination to think this far ahead. Lucifer must be involved. They’re talking about directly influencing multiple humans over at least a decade, plus all the preparation the humans don’t even know they’ll be doing.”

“How…” Aziraphale swallowed. “How many people?”

“How many feathers in your wings?” Crowley said bitterly. “As many as they can, of course.”

“But human planes need humans to fly them,” Aziraphale said, frowning.

“Gahhh!” Crowley burst out. “You don’t get it, do you angel? Haster’s been in their ears, telling them that there is no higher honour than to die for this cause.” His lip twisted. “They’ll think they’re going to heaven, for killing a bunch of helpless people.”

“No…” Aziraphale said. “Even the children?”

“Even the children!” Crowley roared. He clenched his fist, and Aziraphale wondered if he was going to break something.

He didn’t in the end, but the angel could see the frustration on his face.

“So what are we going to do about it?” Aziraphale asked.

“Nothing!” Crowley said. “How can I do anything about it? It’s too clever, it starts too far back. If I get involved now they have plenty of time to fix whatever I change, and if I do it closer to the time there’s no way to stop it without them knowing it’s an inside job!”

Aziraphale listened, the truth of Crowley’s words resonating in him. He was right, this was too cleverly planned. But it sounded like a lot of work for an isolated disaster.

“There must be more,” he said. “All this work…there must be dozens of demons working on it.”

“More,” Crowley replied. “A whole wing of hell is full of their offices.”

“Then what else do they want to achieve?” Aziraphale asked. “Even if their plan works, there have been mass human deaths before. How will this be different?”

“It’s about morale,” Crowley said. “I think they actually have been reading my reports all this time.”

“Spreading ferment,” Aziraphale recalled Crowley’s favourite phrase.

“Exactly,” the demon replied. “Low level discontent, fear, instability, distrust…all my old favourites. But this time on a global scale, and in a way we’ve never done before. Country versus religion.”

“And everyone will have nuclear weapons by then,” Aziraphale said quietly.

“Exactly,” Crowley said. “Let things stew long enough and we’re almost certainly looking at the end of the world. In a decidedly not-Armageddon kind of way.”

“This is not how it’s meant to happen,” Aziraphale replied. “I need to think.”

“I need to drink,” Crowley said, miracling himself a large glass of Scotch.

+++

Several hours later, Aziraphale sighed, taking the still full glass from Crowley’s hand. “Automatic refills,” he murmured. “Of course.”

Concentrating, he drained the alcohol from Crowley’s system, stepping back as the demon convulsed with the process.

“At least tell me you’re going to do that,” he groaned. “Give me a chance to brace next time.”

“I may have a solution,” Aziraphale told him, his voice vibrating with excitement. “To the…plane problem.”

Crowley sat up immediately, wincing, but rolling one hand over in a gesture clearly indicating, ‘get on with it then.’

“Well,” Aziraphale said, “I think you’re right. We can’t stop this event happening. It’s just too dangerous if they suspect someone has been taking steps against it. But we can mitigate the long term results. Play our own long game, if you like.”

“I’m listening,” Crowley said.

“What is the opposite of all your old favourites?” Aziraphale asked. “Discontent, fear, instability, distrust?”

“Contentment…” began Crowley, but Aziraphale shook his head.

“Hope,” he said, the word ringing as he said it with reverence. “Hope will overcome all of those things. And in the face of all the nasty things you demons are going to be spreading-”

“-Oi! Not this demon!” Crowley protested.

“-most demons,” Aziraphale amended, “hope will at least temper the effects.” He smiled at Crowley. “Or if we are feeling particularly ambitious…”

“I think we are,” Crowley replied immediately.

“Hope will outshine everything.” Aziraphale’s voice was calm and confident.

“Okay, so do you have a plan for this?” Crowley asked.

“I think so, but I need a little more information,” Aziraphale asked. He miracled up a pen and paper and settled in a chair.

Crowley nodded, and they began to plot their campaign.

+++

“So we’re more or less agreed, then?” Aziraphale said. Several hours had passed, but the bones of their plan were now in place. Crowley had known more than he realised; the right questions from Aziraphale brought out the information, and they were reasonably ready to set things in motion.

“We have around forty years,” Crowley said. “Start of the twenty-first century is where they’re aiming for. Probably America, given their result in the Cold War. It makes sense the Americans will close their airspace-”

“-forcing planes to make emergency landings-” Aziraphale continued.

“-and if we can get the right things in place, a whole bunch of them will land here,” Crowley finished, jabbing his finger at the north east corner of North America. “Newfoundland.”

“There are a lot of logistics,” Aziraphale reminded him. “We need to make sure that airport isn’t torn down, they won’t use it once jet engines are more efficient.”

“Logistics I can do,” Crowley said. “That’s just about interrupting the local politics. It’s getting the right people there that I can’t risk. Inspiring them to be good people and all that.”

“And that’s where I come in,” Aziraphale said happily. “Make sure the residents of,” he squinted at the map, “Gander, Newfoundland are full of love and goodwill for their fellow man when it all happens.”

“Better make it the whole area,” Crowley mused, peering at the map. “It’s pretty sparsely populated out there, and who knows how many people might be landing there.”

Aziraphale nodded, making a note of it. “Anything else?” he said.

“We’ll have to make sure the word gets out,” Crowley said, “but let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Let’s just make sure the world doesn’t implode when this all goes down.”

+++

“Well?” Crowley asked somberly. They hadn’t seen each other for a while; Aziraphale working on the ground, as it were, and he making his appearance at the celebratory party in Hell.

“I don’t know how much effect I really had,” Aziraphale said, his face tired.

“What?” Crowley said.

“They didn’t need me,” Aziraphale said simply, dropping into a chair. “For all the work I put in, they just,” he shrugged, tears shining in his eyes, “did it. All on their own.”

Crowley whistled. “All of it?”

“The food, the shelters, everything,” Aziraphale confirmed.

“Even the different religious groups?” Crowley asked. They’d tried to think of everything, putting a selection of people on the planes sure to be diverted. Couldn’t have the sceptics protesting, after all.

“Everyone,” Aziraphale said. Through his tears, he smiled. “A few connections I’m rather proud of, actually.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, reflecting on their work.

“Do you think it will work?” Crowley said quietly. “Things are pretty intense right now.”

“Of course they are,” Aziraphale replied. “But things will calm down a little on their own. I really don’t think we give the humans enough credit sometimes.”

Crowley snorted. “Maybe,” he conceded.

“Did I tell you I managed to get a romance in there?” Aziraphale told him. “They think it won’t work, but I’ve been working with him for a long time. He’ll come around soon enough.” He sighed happily, remembering the gloriously golden auras of the pair. It had been a near miss, getting those two on the same plane, but all was well in the end, or it would be.

“It’s not going to be the same, is it?” Crowley asked. “I can still feel it, the distrust in the air. The fear.”

“We can’t get rid of them entirely,” Aziraphale told him. “Hell would suspect something.” He sighed, the happiness draining away as the bigger picture came to mind again. “We just need to make sure there’s enough good not to tip the balance over into chaos.”

“Yeah…” Crowley said. “Have you thought about how we’re going to make sure this story gets out?”

“Actually,” Aziraphale said, his eyes shining, “I have. I’ve taken a leaf out of Hell’s book. I’m thinking we stay quiet for a while, just in case. Set our sights a little further out, if you like, and in a direction nobody would suspect.”

“Nobody…come on, I’ve already tempted Oprah to contact that reporter,” Crawley said. “She’s convinced it will net her a bucket of money.”

“Patience,” Aziraphale said. He leaned forward, eyes shining with excitement. “How do you feel about musicals?”


	2. October, 2016

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale has a very specific reason for bringing Crowley to Gander on this weekend.

“Where are we again?” Crowley asked.

Aziraphale sighed. He knew Crowley was well aware of where they were. This was just another way to signal his disapproval of their trip.

“Gander, Newfoundland,” Aziraphale said. “Canada, North America, the Earth,” he added with an edge of sarcasm that Crowley must have decided to ignore.

“Exactly why are we here?” Crowley grumbled. “We’re supposed to be with the boy.”

“He’ll be fine,” Aziraphale interrupted. “We can’t make him come of age any faster.”

“Well, we’re both supposed to be influencing him,” Crowley retorted.

Aziraphale stopped trying to see over the heads of the crowd and turned to Crowley. “I thought we agreed,” he said with a carefully patient tone, “that we essentially cancel each other out. So if we’re both absent, it won’t affect the outcome, will it?”

“No,” Crowley said, making a face as soon as the angel turned his back.

“I saw that,” Aziraphale said, his eyes still on the road. “And I see them!”

He pointed at the two huge busses lumbering into the small town.

“That’s them?” Crowley said, frowning. “Are you telling me that the cast of a musical about people arriving here on a plane actually drove here?”

“Well, it’s hard to schedule a flight into the airport these days,” Aziraphale said defensively. “They did fly part of the way.”

“I’m sure,” Crowley muttered. “I still don’t see why we have to be here.”

“I want you to see what we did,” Aziraphale replied. “What we both did. It’s been fifteen years, remember?”

“Yes, and the world hasn’t imploded since, so we did an okay job,” Crowley said. “Surely that’s enough.”

“No,” Aziraphale said. “It’s not.”

He slipped his hand into Crowley’s as they watched people tumble off the bus. They looked exhausted, but as locals cheered and approached them for hugs, energy returned to their faces and bodies. The chatter was deafening, people greeting each other, talking for a moment before moving on. Apparently every single local was determined to greet every single person off the bus.

“This could take all day,” Crowley grumbled again. “And I’m cold.”

“I did warn you,” Aziraphale said without taking his eyes off the large group. “These are the locals. Not all of them, of course, but the core of people who did what we needed them to.”

Crowley looked over them, feigning disinterest. “What about the ones that made the musical?” he asked.

“Those I had to influence a little,” Aziraphale said, pointing out a trio of people just disembarking. “A delicate touch was needed.” He looked precisely as smug as he sounded. “As soon as they had funding, the rest took care of itself.”

“So the humans really did want to hear about this,” Crowley mused. “Nothing gets done if it doesn’t make money.”

“Sold out shows in several cities, and they’re heading to Broadway soon,” Aziraphale said. “Plenty of media attention, and there are new companies planned all over the world.” He beamed. “Plenty of people will see the story first hand.”

“And the music?” Crowley asked. “Seems to be quite…influential.”

“I did have a small role in the composition,” Aziraphale admitted. “Several celestial chord progressions will leave audiences with a low level feeling of goodwill and compassion.”

“And with worldwide sales of the soundtrack, plenty of people will be influenced without even seeing the show,” Crowley summed up.

Aziraphale hummed with satisfied agreement. “No word from down below about our little experiment in counter-influence?”

“Nothing,” Crowley replied. He’d been so relieved when the partying had ended, all those years ago. It still turned his stomach to see the fierce satisfaction of the other demons, and pretending to enjoy it had stretched the very limits of his creative powers. Once it became clear the world was not going to end, he’d kept his ear to the proverbial ground, making sure the dissatisfied murmurings were about the fickle natures of humans and not the potential for insider trading, as it were.

Sure enough, demons were generally far too stupid to see a bigger picture. Haster had thrown some suspicious looks at Crowley, but his attention was diverted with some carefully placed demonic activity in Edinburgh. Newly minted demons were always so eager to get started.

“Well at least we stopped this event from ending the world,” Crowley murmured. He frowned, pointing out an older couple greeting the people off the bus. “Are they that couple you mentioned?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale replied. “Convinced him to move across the world for her.” He beamed. “Not all that difficult, in the end. He was quite fond of her, under all that English reserve.”

“Was he, now,” Crowley murmured.

“Surprising what some people are actually carrying around with them,” Aziraphale continued. “You wouldn’t even know it if you didn’t take the time to see.” He was too distracted to notice Crowley’s expression, far more pensive now that it had been.

“Angel,” Crowley started, then stopped. “You’re right,” he said finally.

They stood for a few minutes before Crowley spoke again. “It feels different out here,” he said. “The air.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale replied. “It always has.” He turned to look at the demon, pulling his eyes from the people below for the first time. “What does it feel like to you?”

Crowley took his time, glancing at the angel self-consciously as he flicked his tongue out to taste the air. “There’s almost no fear,” he said, quietly. “It’s…overwhelmed with…something else.”

“_What_ else?” Aziraphale asked. “Can you feel it?”

Crowley frowned, searching for what Aziraphale was trying to show him. “No,” he said. “I don’t know what you’re-oh!”

Aziraphale had pressed one hand to his chest, right over his heart, and the pulse of angelic energy almost shocked him off his feet.

“Love!” he gasped without thinking.

“Very good,” Aziraphale said. “It’s everywhere here. Circling through the air. Smothering a lot of the negative emotions. I haven’t felt it as strong in a long time.”

Crowley nodded. He still couldn’t feel anything in the air, but the bolt of love Aziraphale had shot through him without warning was still swirling through his extremities and he didn’t want to lose it.

“Do you…is it the people?” Crowley asked finally.

“These people?” Aziraphale asked, pointing at the buses. Crowley nodded. “Not the come from aways,” Aziraphale said, “although they can feel it too. But the locals. They love this place, and there’s so much of it, they can’t help it spilling over into everything around here. The people, the animals – anything that comes here is touched by it.”

Crowley was quiet for a long moment before he spoke. “Not me,” he said. “I can’t feel it.”

Light blue eyes settled on his own, angelic in the extreme. Love and empathy blazed forth, bathing him in their warmth with such tenderness Crowley almost felt like he was going to cry.

“If you can’t feel it in the air,” Aziraphale murmured, taking Crowley’s hand, “we’ll just have to spend more time here.” He smiled at the demon, a slow flush of warmth emanating from his hand and up the demon’s arm. “Get you used to it.”

“Okay,” Crowley whispered. He had no idea what his angel was up to, but he wasn’t going to pass up such an opportunity. He’d forgotten what love felt like. It had been so long since he’d felt its gentle touch, and now twice in as many minutes it was coursing through his body.

Hesitantly, he squeezed Aziraphale’s hand. To his relief there was an answering squeeze.

“Come on,” Aziraphale said. “So much to show you around here. There are some gorgeous lookouts.” He grinned. “We can read the human information boards and laugh at their interpretation of the geology, if you like.”

Crowley rolled his eyes, but allowed himself to be pulled in the direction of a sign that read, ‘Dover Fault Lookout’. If he had to look at ridiculous human artefacts to keep hold of Aziraphale’s hand, so be it.


End file.
